


Wayward Flock

by kyo_chan



Series: Dead is the New Alive [5]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:31:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/kyo_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disaster strikes in Liore during a routine visit by Mustang's team. What was found quickly becomes lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wayward Flock

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warnings on this one. Character death within.

The headquarters for General Alex Armstrong’s post in the struggling city of Liore was little more than a boarding house for the overflow of clergy in the massive church nearby. These days, the religion was an unsure thing, and anyone that still preached the message of Leto remained in the chapel proper, in the house of their god. It was obvious that Armstrong had tried not to change much to accommodate his stay there. Zolf Kimblee suspected that the décor had been there before his arrival as well as most of the furniture. The only thing that seemed out of place was the large desk occupying the sitting room just off the galley kitchen, scuffed and worn but sturdy. It was full of paperwork and likely would be for months to come.

The Crimson Alchemist found the silence of the room unsettling. Only hours before, there had been utter and complete chaos. Fallen bodies underfoot, smoke and death clinging to the back of his throat. It felt like Ishval all over again. Unlike then, however, he didn’t have the taste of blood and alchemy under his tongue and he didn’t delight in the destruction of the distressed town. He felt the weight of the battle that had taken place that day and it was hard to keep still. For a visit that was supposed to be routine, things had gone out of control in a heartbeat with still no reported origin.

And far too many casualties.

General Mustang sat behind the old desk, hastily jotting notes onto a notepad, painfully focused. Kimblee had remained with him in the aftermath of the battle, taking information from the soldiers that checked in and listening to his commanding officer make calls to Central Command. Body counts, supply requests, damage reports. Numbers and statistics, all very cold and impersonal when he knew that the emotions behind them were anything but. Armstrong had left Mustang to his dealings with Central, instead trying to tame the panic and settle things back down. Mustang had finished the last call almost twenty minutes ago and not said a word since.

A knock jarred the thick quiet around them, and Kimblee glanced over. Mustang hadn’t even looked up, continuing to write as if he’d never heard the noise. He suppressed a sigh and went over to the door, warily opening it and expecting to find another soldier on the stoop ready to report. Instead, he found the girl that had been introduced upon their arrival as Rose. Raising an eyebrow, he wordlessly let her in, closing the door behind her. “I thought certainly you would be in the church,” he said conversationally.

“Father Martin is speaking to the people. He doesn’t need me there,” she answered, her voice meek and her eyes shadowed. Haunted. “I…wanted to talk to you. About Edward.”

The scratching noise of Mustang’s writing came to a halt, and Kimblee watched him slowly put the pen down. How composed the Flame Alchemist looked as he straightened in his seat, threading his fingers together. “Why don’t you have a seat, Rose,” he said to her, nodding to the chair across from Armstrong’s desk. It still sounded like the man was making statistical phone calls to Central.

She glanced up at Kimblee as if she were unsure, but he put on his best Sunday smile and rested a hand at the small of her back, guiding her to where his commanding officer waited. “Any news you might have would be helpful.” He disliked her hesitation, his first impression that she was a victim and not the strong leader her people thought her to be. Then again, who was he to destroy that illusion? The last time someone had done that, the result had been less than favorable and the reactions that of herd of sheep, ungrateful for their newfound freedom.

Once seated, Rose didn’t seem to know where to start. Kimblee continued to smile and touched her shoulder. The words tumbled forth. “Edward...came to Liore a few days ago.”

Even Kimblee felt the jolt of surprise, but he only saw it on Roy’s face in the twitch of one brow and the slight narrowing of his eyes.

“He...looked terrible. And when I called to him, he didn’t remember who I was, didn’t remember this place. He was just trying to find his way back home.”

So the Gate had taken Ed’s memories as well. Just like it had with Alphonse, who hadn’t remembered anything since the day they had tried to bring their mother back. He supposed worse things could have been taken from them in payment. But if today’s events were any indication, the two brothers didn’t need alchemy or Truth to take everything from them. The human life they cherished seemed all too capable of doing it for them.

“Did you tell General Armstrong?” Mustang asked coolly.

Rose shook her head, tears starting to brim in her eyes. “He begged me not to. He said that if he just had a little bit of time, if I could tell him some things he didn’t remember... He didn’t want to burden anyone by not knowing who they were or why they were important. I tried to tell him that Alphonse was the same way, but he wouldn’t listen.” Those tears escaped, slipping down her cheeks. “I knew...I knew that you were coming for your visit. I thought that I would bring him to you and Alphonse, but the attack... I’m so sorry.” She dropped her head, a fitting defeated conclusion to her tale.

Kimblee had never personally met the Fullmetal Alchemist, but between the things he’d heard and the all-too-composed look on Mustang’s face, he could very much believe everything Rose had said. He was always making noise like a particularly bratty pest, and yet his consideration for those that were close to him seemed to override everything else. Up to and including hiding his appearance until he had something to offer. How was he to know that everything would go to hell? None of them had even seen it coming. If they had known ahead of time, Kimblee had no doubt that Alphonse would have gone to his brother first, before the fighting had even started.

“You couldn’t know,” Mustang said, and while he didn’t sound very sympathetic to her, he at least attempted to be reassuring. Kimblee suspected that he just didn’t have it in him. Not when he lost something important to him that day as well.

“Is Alphonse all...” she paused, correcting herself. “How is he?”

Kimblee exchanged a glance with Mustang, once more quirking his brow in question. The latter seemed to ignore the question, picking up his pen again to continue writing. That was Crimson’s cue. “Understandably, he is rather distraught. He is in his room and not accepting visitors.” The image was still very clear in his mind of the young man tucked into the corner, the lights turned out, clutching his knees to his chest. He hadn’t taken off his uniform, stained dark where he had been holding Edward’s body to him. It had been difficult to separate them so that Ed could be properly wrapped for burial, and once they had, Alphonse had become as responsive as a puppet with its strings cut.

Rose seemed stricken when she looked up at Kimblee, her face red and still splotchy with her tears. “I’m so sorry. Will you tell him that for me?”

“Of course.” Mustang’s pen scratched against the paper harder, and Kimblee wanted this woman gone. On top of the news, all of her flustering wasn’t going to help his commanding officer. “Perhaps you will be able to see him off when we return to Central.” Unlikely, he knew and didn’t care if he was telling a lie. His job was to protect Mustang, and by extension, Alphonse. He cared nothing about this girl. He offered her his hand, and she took it, skin cold and clammy, making him want to retract his chivalrous attempt.

He bid her good night as he shut the door behind her, taking a deep breath and glancing over his shoulder. Once more, Mustang acted as if he could hear nothing, see nothing around him, completely absorbed in the paperwork on the desk. In that moment, Kimblee could see a shadow of Alphonse, as if the two of them were one. Both lost. It made him tense to think that they were just like Rose, always fighting to rebuild things that had been taken away from them only to see more get yanked away. If it had been anything else, Kimblee thought it would be easily overcome. A wrench in the gears, surely, but the two men were stubborn. This time, however, they’d lost the most vital parts of them.

When they were finished in Liore, they would lay Riza Hawkeye and Edward Elric to rest.


End file.
